


No Mans Land

by armyofangels



Category: Bucky Barnes - Fandom, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Steve Rogers - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 23:18:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11241345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armyofangels/pseuds/armyofangels
Summary: After coming back from the front, Bucky is forced into a London hospital. Steve is his nurse aide."You sizing me up?" Steve questions.Are you reading my mind? Bucky wanted to ask. "No just watchin' what you're doing."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this thinking it was a great idea. I'm really just hurting myself. Enjoy!

The blood trickled off the table and onto the cold tiled floor. There was heavy breathing and moans of pain. The lights were flickering and booming sounds of airplane engines were present in the distance.

  

The patient was critical. He wasn’t responding well to the large amounts of morphine being pumped into his system. His left arm was literally hanging by a thread of torn muscle. Doctors knew what had to be done, but they wanted to subside the pain before they began the procedure.

 

By a stroke of luck, the man passed out from the pain and the adrenaline. This gave a small window of time for the doctors to do what they had to do.

 

The talking became almost a hum, and with that, the procedure was done. It took 30 minutes to stitch the man up, and somehow, he was still breathing strong and in a dazed state. After they wrapped up his nub of an arm, they shipped him back to the open room of sickly and disabled soldiers that would be picked up in a couple days.

 

And that’s where his story really begins.

 

He hadn’t really woken up in two days, unless you count the times he was force fed in a groggy daze. He did finally wake up when two nurses moved him onto a hard stretcher and pushed him into a the back of a truck with two other men. He fell asleep again, not taking mind to the stinging pain in his left shoulder.

 

He woke again when he was being loaded onto a train. In his trance, he asked the person helping him into the train where he was going.

 

“London. Then you can go home.” The man said. He wanted to punch him in his teeth when he gave him a smile.

 

“But what about my men?”

 

“Sergeant, your men are under new direction. You can’t go out onto the battlefield without your arm, can ya?”

 

_He had signed away his life and history behind in 1942, just to have a future he never asked for. He wanted to scream. He wanted off the train. He wanted to go back and win the war._

 

But the train began to pull away. And he couldn’t do anything but stare down at the empty space at his left side.

 

“Fuckin’ Nazis.”

 

The ride was endless. Pretty nurses gave the sick man more attention which only pissed him off more. He couldn’t help but think about how no woman would ever want an armless man when he got back home. No one would go dancing with him ever again.

 

He couldn’t think of one person in the whole world who would dare treat him the same way. His friends were either dead or still at war. They weren’t in Brooklyn.

 

_Who would want to hangout with a cripple?_

_  
Would people stare at him?_

 

_What job would he get when he got back home?_

 

 He only knew war.

 

And he sat there trying to clench his hands. His phantom hand, he imagined, was back on the battlefield.

 

All he did for days was get force fed gross soups and porridge and asked tons of questions by the conscious men. He felt guilty because one of them had lost an eye and his leg, and couldn't even look him in the face. The other had some fever that was going around his unit and he was the only one to get back alive. He was a talker.

 

He had a window to look out of, which was good. But then the train stopped due to bombs being dropped on the tracks. He watched confused men try to form a track with whatever remnants were left by the bombs. Somehow they got it in a position and the train trailed forward to London. But then they stopped _again_ when a whole entire bridge was blown away by a bomb dropped by one of the German planes during a _blitzkreig_ the night before. It took five hours for two army trucks to arrive and haul all the men to a boat that would bring them to the London harbor, which was an even longer trip. He tried to start conversation with one of the men in the truck, who seemed annoyed with the whole situation. The man totally disregarded him and huffed every time he asked a question. He stayed to himself and dealt with his pain silently. He observed the wooded area they traveled through and realized it was littered with belongings from people from a village nearby. They must’ve all ran to the woods when word that the Nazi’s were coming, which would only get them in more trouble if caught.

 

He remembered going through villages just like it when trying to take occupied territory back. One village in particular tore him and his men to shreds. Children, no older than 4, lie dead in the streets from bullets shot by Germans. One of his men broke down and dropped to his knees in front of a child. He remembered watching the man scream for God to have mercy on the women and children. Bucky knew better, but he wouldn’t say anything. There was no God in war. It was havoc and chaos and not even God wanted to be involved in that. There was no mercy.

 

After a long train ride that lasted a well two days and a boat ride that took 3 more days, he was whisked away in a wheelchair through the busy port of London. The men he traveled with were taken in different directions, to his dismay. He would never see them again. He wouldn’t know if they lived or died.

 

He was taken to London’s St. Bartholomew’s hospital. It was large, and vast, and full of people. Luckily, he was in the recovery ward, which housed only 15 people at the time. Everyone else was too busy dying in other wards, so he had it good.

  

It took them 35 minutes to transfer him off the stretcher, because he also had to change clothes and he couldn’t do it himself. Two male nurses helped him into a white short sleeve and long dark blue pants. They just gave him direction on how to dress himself for the next time around.

 

_“Use your other arm to pull the sleeve in position.”_

 

_“Bunch up the shirt to the collar and then slip it over your head.”_

 

He didn’t say anything until a doctor approached his area asking for his name.

  

“Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. Of the 107th.” After he said it, they helped him into the comfortable white cot and walked away so the doctor could evaluate. The doctor had to make daily rounds in the recovery ward to ensure the nurses and aids were doing their jobs. He’d spend a little more time with him because he was a new patient.

  

“Well Sergeant, welcome to London.” He says in a thick British accent as he sits in a metal chair at James’ left side. He begins to slowly unwrap his nub, watching for his face to contort from the pulling and pressure. Blood was still trickling out of the wound and it was quite a gruesome sight. James didn’t even want to look at it, so he turned in the other direction.

 

“The bleeding slowed down a little on the train here. We’d have to change my wrappin’ every hour or so because it was soaked with that shit.” Bucky said through his teeth.

 

“From what I read in your report, you’re a pretty brave man aren’t you?” The doctor spoke softly, while balling up the wrap to throw it in the trash can next to his bed.

 

“I did what I had to do for my men.”

 

“And grabbing a grenade is what you had to do?”

 

“At least I didn’t jump on top of it.” He laughs, his chest rising and falling quickly as he does. The doctor just smiles.

 

He inspects his shoulder, making sure the other little wounds are healing. “Seems like you will be in recovery for maybe a month. In that time, we will make sure your skin is completely closed, and ensure you won’t get any infections.”

 

He nods his head, thanking the doctor.

 

“I will send your nurse aide in to wrap you back up.”

 

“Is she a looker?”

 

The doctor turns and shakes his head, “He, and if you’re into small ones.”

 

He lays his head back onto his pillow and stares up at the ceiling.

 

The man beside him finally woke up and glanced in his way, instantly catching his eye.

 

“You the new guy?” The ginger man asks. He didn’t have a leg.

 

“Yeah, you the old one?”

 

“Ah, you Americans in your dumb humor.” The man was Scottish and had a booming voice, “What’s ya name, lad?”

 

“James. Call me Bucky though, that’s what everyone calls me.” He says glancing back up at the ceiling, “Yours?”

 

“My name is Wilam Henrik. People call me Wilam.”

 

They burst into laughter, which causes Wilam to cough manically. Bucky stops instantly, reaching out to him. "You okay?"

 

“Yeah, just I have a couple bruised ribs and they sting when I laugh or move. Real pain in the arse.” Wilam states, pulling his shirt up to reveal his almost black sides. Bucky cringes, imagining the pain the poor guy must be dealing with.

 

They grow quiet when a small blond guy walks in. He’s wearing the same white uniform the other nurses were wearing. He doesn’t make eye contact with anyone but one person. Bucky.

 

He has a new wrap in hand. He approaches Bucky carefully, not wanting to interrupt the conversation he was sharing. He was timid. His hair was slicked down, and he had very prominent features.

 

“Hey, I’m uh- I’m Steve, your nurse aid. If you need anything just ask me.” He says it so quickly it causes Bucky to start laughing again. His laugh intimidates Steve for some reason, like he is judging him for all he’s worth. But Bucky’s laugh was nothing but a waste of breath he was using to get rid of the internal pain he was feeling.

 

“You American?” Bucky questions, adjusting himself upward so Steve can do his job.

 

“Yeah,” He says softly, “I’m from New York.”

 

“No fuckin’ way, me too.”

 

“Where at?”

 

“Brooklyn. Born and raised.”

 

Steve nods, his lips in a tight smile, “Me too.”

 

“That’s crazy. World is so goddamn small. What are ya’ doing here in London? Get lots of girls here, ya? Heard they are pretty easy to come by.” Steve ignores him for a moment to ensure he’s wrapping his nub correctly. He furrows his eyebrows in concentration.

 

“No, I don’t come here to objectify women, I came here because I wanted to do my part in this war and I can’t get in the army.” He tries to say it with conviction, but his voice cracks a little.

 

Bucky is taken aback by his sudden confidence, “Why because you look like you’re 10 years old?”

 

“No, because I was born with every sickness known to man.”

 

He is quiet. Bucky stays mute and lets the guy do his job, feeling a pang of guilt for making him feel bad.

 

Steve tries to brush away his sensitivity, because he knew this man had experienced the worst or the worst on the battlefield. He was allowed to be an asshole. He’s dealt with worse soldiers anyway, but he wanted at least one good patient on this ward. It would be his last patient, after all, until he is transferred.

 

He focuses on the job at hand. The wrap was bunching up around the bloody areas which causes blood to seep through the wrap. He strategizes for a moment before unwrapping it altogether so he can start again. Bucky glances over at him, confusion in his expression. That’s when Steve notices those beautiful deep set greenish blue eyes. His breathing halts for a minute, before he instantly snaps back to work. Bucky observes his hands working quickly to wrap his nub, and takes into account how small and delicate Steve looked. Bucky could probably break him in half.

 

“You sizing me up?” Steve questions.

 

  
_Are you reading my mind?_ Bucky wanted to ask. “No, just watchin’ what you’re doing.”

  

When the end of the wrap comes, Steve taps it off and presses lightly, ensuring it will stay until the next morning.

 

Steve stands up and begins to walk back down the corridor of men, wanting to feel confident but feeling a little torn between wanting to like Bucky but also hating him for saying what he said about his appearance.

 

_Stop being so damn sensitive._

 

“What if I need you again?” Bucky yells across the room, interrupting everyone’s slumber and quiet time. He didn’t even care, the skinny

 

Steve stops in his tracks and turns to him, “I will know.”

 

Bucky grows quiet, settling back against his pillows. He glances over at Wilam who is just staring at him with curious eyes.

 

“What?”

 

“You just tore that poor fellow’s world apart in your first meeting. You won’t want him against you, mate. Heard he’s the best nurse on this ward.”

   
“Yeah we will see.”


	2. Guided Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky eats breakfast, something drastic happens to his new friend, and Steve licks his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! i will updating this fic twice a week or once a week. but an update a week for sure! if you want to be updated about when i post, follow me on twitter at @NICKVAUGHANS (all caps, folks) and i will def post about every time i update. 
> 
> this fic is slowly becoming my baby and i'm so glad about the response i've been getting since the first chapter. so thank you all sooooo much for being so lovely. enjoy the stevebucky.

 

 

 

Bucky watched the sun rise over the fog of London. He couldn’t sleep much, because he was distracted by other people’s snoring and the simple fact that he’s slept for days. Little did he know those days would be his last good nights of sleep. Wilam kept him company, though. They talked about the war and their homes before the war struck each of their lives. He was a pretty smart guy and Bucky took a liking to his humor.

 

Steve came in when breakfast was served. Each man got a ration of bread and porridge. Bucky fed himself, while Steve unwrapped his shoulder. The tug made Bucky grunt and Steve jump. They hadn’t said anything to each other since they reunited, there wasn’t much to say.

 

Steve took into account every small cut on Bucky’s shoulder as the linen fell from the last rounding he made on Bucky’s arm.

 

Steve grabs the water soaked rag he brought along with him to clean up the blood on the remainder of Bucky’s arm. He hadn’t completely lost the thing, Steve thought, just up to his mid bicep. He did though, roll up Bucky’s sleeve before to inspect the rest of his wounds. There were small cuts and scrapes that littered his shoulder blade.

 

“Those hurt any?” Steve asks, wiping the opened wound as gently as he could.

 

Bucky winces, “My arm is missing, pal. Those things ain’t anythin’.”

 

“Just need to make sure.” Steve retorts, returning to focusing on cleaning up his blood soaked limb.

 

“Ay, Steven!” Wilam tries to yell from across Bucky’s bed.

 

Steve looks up, “Yeah?”

 

“Can you tell me nurse she is slacking off on cleaning my leg? I think the damn thing is infected. Can’t feel my hip bone.” Wilam confesses, dropping his bowl on his side table next to his small knick knacks. He had his tags, two weird looking coins, and a photo of a young child, Bucky took notice to last night.

 

“Yeah, I’ll tell her. In the meantime, you think you can take that wrap off yourself? I could clean you up after I wrap Buck here.”

 

“Buck?” Bucky glances over at the small man, only making him feel smaller.

 

“Sorry, Bucky.”

 

“Yeah I don’t think I’be doin’ anything like that.” Wilam adjusts his body. Bucky notices how weak and pale he looked compared to last night. He couldn’t even lift his head completely. Bucky nudges Steve, making him take notice.

 

“I don’t think he’s doing well.” Bucky remarks.

 

“Yeah you may be right. His nurse has been taking care of other men she has crushes on instead of doing her actual job.” Steve mutters bitterly.

 

“Seems like you guys need some better nurses.” Bucky jokes.

 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, Buck.”

 

“Ya coming up with nicknames now?” Bucky asks, as Steve finishes cleaning his arm. Steve shrugs.

 

“Sorry, just slipped I guess. It won’t happen again.” Steve grabs the new white wrap and starts his job.

 

“Nah, it’s okay. Hey and ‘m sorry about yesterday. Give me time to adjust to this shithole and we could be good friends.” Bucky says, laying his head back after finishing his porridge.

 

“Yeah, bet you want to be back with your men. I don’t blame you for being angry about being here.”

 

“I’m more angry ‘bout leaving my men than I am that I lost my arm.” Bucky confesses, “But I’m glad I’m in good hands and I can… I don’t know.”

 

“You have a dame to go back to?” Steve asks, as he meticulously spins the linen in his hands.

 

 _A dame. Ha._ Bucky thought to himself.

 

“Nah man, just a sister and dad. But I live by myself.”

 

“You’re a nice looking guy, bet the ladies will be lining up to be with a soldier when you get home.” Steve tries not to sound weird, making his voice casual and not very enthusiastic.

 

“Not limbless ones.”

 

Steve finishes and heads over to Wilam. He definitely has an infection and would have to report it to the doctors as soon as he could. He avoids the infected area and rewraps his limb. He wrote on his chart that he would need to be moved to the infectious ward, and made his way out.

 

Bucky watched him walk away. He kept his head down for some odd reason, which kind of bothered him. He didn’t know why, but watching Steve’s head hang low as he passed everyone made his heart clench. He readjusted, facing Wilam.

 

“Steve didn’t say much. Think I may be in trouble, mate.” Wilam remarked, glancing at his table. Bucky swallowed hard.

 

And he was right. Before he knew it, doctors rushed to Wilam’s side to assess him. All the recovering son of bitches stared, curious at the odd red head’s condition. They unwrapped him, yanking him in all sorts of directions. Bucky was quiet, trying not to be nosy.

 

It just seemed like every single time he got even remotely close to someone, they would slip from his fingers so quickly.

 

They transferred Wilam onto a hard stretcher, his loud moans becoming louder as they rattled him. They moved him closer to Bucky’s bed as they began to strip his mattress.

 

“Hey, mate, I got a question for ya.” Wilam said weakly, hitting Bucky’s hand.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“See, my girl died before the war, during child birth. We ‘ave a son who’s living with my ma’. They don’t know ‘m here, and I don’t want no nurse or doctor givin’ em a ring to let them know I ain’t coming back. So…”

 

Bucky’s heart broke. He had this request from other men in his unit, too.

 

“I know I hardly know ya’ but you’re a higher rank and I trust ya’. Do ya think you could tell em’ if I don’t make it. They live in Scotland, which is a ways bu-”

 

“Sure Wilam. Just give me an address and I will make my way there when I get out of this hell. But I am sure you’ll make it, boy.”

 

“I don’t really know at this point.” Wilam reached back to hit a doctor. He whispered something to him and the doctor quickly pulled out a piece of paper from the clipboard he had and wrote down everything he said before handing the paper to Bucky.

 

“Hey, you stay alive buddy.” Bucky said, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. Wilam tried to smile but came up to weak to do so.

 

Bucky folded the paper neatly and set it next to his dog tags on the side table. It’s all he had there besides the empty food bowl the other nurses would come by and pick up. He made a mental note to ensure the paper was always there.

 

Bucky took interest in watching people walk out. He watched people come in and out, wondering where they were going, what they were thinking. This mainly happened with Steve. That day, Steve came in and out 3 times to check on Bucky and administer some drugs to other patients.

 

Bucky notices how he kept his hand in one pocket when he walked. He cracked his knuckles when he was nervous about doing something (especially when it came to getting near and or touching him). He licked his lips after he said something long winded.

 

Bucky was _basically_ stalking the poor kid. Learning all his ticks and habits.

 

The last time he came around to Bucky it was to check off something on the clipboard hanging on the end of his bed. He kept his head down per usual, pursing his lips as his pen wrote something down on the clipboard.

 

“What’s that thing for any way?” Bucky asked quickly before Steve could sprint away.

 

“To track your progress. Mostly just to keep track if you’re not doing good or if you can leave earlier than expected.”

 

Silence for a moment before Bucky could work up the courage to talk about anything else. He didn’t know why he was so suddenly nervous to speak.

 

“Any word on Wilam?”

 

“He is in critical condition. He seemed to have had a rapid spreading infection that went up the remainder of his leg and to his bloodstream. He probably only has a night left in him.” Steve says nonchalantly. This was a normal thing to him, but not Bucky.  

 

“How can you be so okay with this?”

 

“You had battlefield deaths, I have hospital deaths. They are similar. You watch someone get shot and you rush to aid them. But there’s truly nothing you can possibly do. This hospital may be equip, but we have a lot of patients. And a lot of them die because there’s nothing else we can do. I can’t be hung up on losing people because it affects my work. Just like you couldn’t get upset over losing men because it would affect the way you fought.” _He licked his lips._

 

“You have a point, but this place is everyone’s last hope.”

 

Steve didn’t know what else to say, “This job.. I try to save as many people as I can. Sometimes that doesn’t mean everyone.”

 

Bucky huffs, “My dad used to say everyone’s last dying wish is to have someone next to them.”

 

Steve sits down at the chair next to Bucky.

 

“He told me if I was drafted that I’ld have to come back, because he didn’t want me dyin’ alone on a battlefield, surrounded by chaos.”

 

“And you’re going to do exactly that. After this, you’re going home Bucky.”

 

“Yeah, but part of me wishes I could’ve died alone out there. Heroes don’t die at home.”

 

Steve swallows, trying to figure out what to say. “Maybe you’re story doesn’t end at home. Heroes have second chances, too.”

 

Bucky wants to stop talking, but the lump in his throat won’t fade unless he’s talking.

 

He realizes that the last time he cried was when he got a letter from his sister saying that his mother died when he was in bootcamp.

 

He knew Steve was waiting for him to say something, but he had no response but the tears streaming down his face. He felt like a wuss. Like every feeling he learned push aside were coming back to haunt him.

 

“You get some rest. I will be back in the morning to check up on you.” Steve pats his leg softly as he stands up, “Say a prayer for Wilam.”

 

He knew he wouldn’t be sleeping, partly because the guy next to Wilam’s abandoned bed was coughing profusely and wouldn’t drink the water the nurses kept bringing him. And plus, Bucky took about 3 cat naps that day and could last him 2 days. His body was still registered to be on guard when he was sleeping. He didn’t get much sleep on the front, and when he did it was interrupted by gunfire.

 

Bucky bites his lip, not doing his new routine which is watching the door. He stares out his window, watching the smoke rise from buildings in the distance. London was a dreary town, full of life, but full of sorrowful scenery. This is where people come to live normal wartime lives. This night in particular was a curfew night because higher ups suspected there might be German pilots dropping bombs on the city, so the streets were bare. From the second floor window, Bucky could see into other buildings with their candles on past the time they were supposed to be lit. He smiled watching a couple watching the stars from outside their window. Or maybe they were searching for planes, who really knew. Either way, the simplicity caused a grin on Bucky’s face.

 

 

These people hadn’t witnessed the things Bucky was too afraid to begin thinking about. In his mind, all those awful things happened to someone else.

 

Maybe one day he would think about them, talk to his grandchildren about it, search for meaning within in the war, but tonight he was thinking about how blue Steve’s eyes were compared to the ocean.


	3. A Walk?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Steve and Bucky decide to take their relationship to the next level

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so SO SO sorry I haven't updated like I said I would. I promise I'm trying so hard. I had a lot on my plate lately. enjoy!

 

 

 

Wilam died at 1:38AM. Bucky was still awake then, and when a nurse came in to tell him the news. Bucky nodded and pursed his lips as the nurse informed him of the travesty, all while he made Wilam’s bed with new sheets. He would probably get a new neighbor in the morning.

 

He imagined a perfect world where good men didn’t die and suffer in their last moments. He was torn at the fact that the poor guy survived the war, getting his leg blown off, and probably even more that he never got to hear about, just to die in a hospital bed in London. It was terribly unfair.

 

He thought back to the night prior where Wilam listened while Bucky dreamt of his home before the war, all the while talking to Bucky about how amazing and beautiful Scotland was in the springtime. He would never get to experience that season ever again.

 

His mind shut off to finally sleep. He was good at shutting things like that out of his mind.

 

Bucky heard rustling next to his bed at around 2AM. It was Steve, he looked exhausted and upset. He put all of Wilam’s things at Bucky’s bed side.

 

“Wha-”

 

“Wilam told one of the doctors your name.. I assumed you would take it...” Steve said quietly, trying to stand up straight. He was slouching and Bucky could tell he was ridden with exhaustion.

 

“Yeah, put it there.” Bucky licked his lips, knowing Wilam’s son would probably take the belongings as a last piece of his father.

 

“You go home and get some rest.” Bucky said, after moving onto his side.

 

“I can’t walk home it’s raining too hard.”

 

Bucky didn’t even notice the pounding of the rain until Steve glanced out the window, “It’s preventing the Germans from attacking so I’m not too upset about it.”

 

“So you’re just gonna stay here all night?” Bucky asked in a hushed tone.

 

“Yeah, probably. Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

 

Bucky was still in a sleepy haze, but he knew he wasn’t going to let this poor guy sleep on the ground in the nurse’s station. “Just sleep in that chair. Keep me company.”

 

“Buc-”

 

“Shut up and make yourself comfortable. If they say anything about you being in here just say I wanted you to make sure I didn’t die in my sleep or something.”

 

Steve plopped down on the fabric-lined chair without another word and scooted closer to Bucky’s bed. His eyes were so heavy, that as soon as he closed them, he was out. Bucky couldn’t really find sleep after that, so he watched the rain drip down the window. In some cases, he’d focus on two drops and watch them race down the window. It was something he started doing when he was a kid sitting in the back of his father’s car.

 

Sometimes Steve would flinch in his sleep, causing Bucky to chuckle quietly. At about 4AM, the rain halted and the sun pushed passed the clouds.

 

The sun was overpowering the gray sky, making it a soft blue and orange. He’d never seen a more beautiful sunset in London before. He remembers the last sunset like it, he was in the trenches, surrounded by dirty men and rats. He didn’t see a lot of beauty in those days, but this 5AM sunrise was the most beautiful thing he could’ve ever witnessed. He would imagine it over the Brooklyn bridge, warming the skin of every early risen New Yorker.

 

His peace was interrupted by Steve suddenly stirring and then slowly opening his eyes.

 

“Mornin’ sunshine. Welcome back to real life.”

 

“Shut up.” Steve muttered, smacking his lips to try to get some saliva on his dry tongue.

 

“You slept a good 4 hours there pal.”

 

“That’s all I’ll need.” Steve mutters, wiping his eyes.

 

“I’m lucky to even get 3 hours.” Bucky laughs, watching Steve rise from his seat.

 

“Yeah, well today I’m making you walk around for a little. No more being bed ridden.” Steve turned to the window to check the weather. “I’m gonna change and then come back and fix up your wrap, let you eat, then we are going to get some fresh air.”

 

Bucky huffed, “Okay Mom.”

  
Steve trailed off, hands tucked into his pockets, to go find some clean scrubs to put on for the day. He would search high and low to find some that fit his tiny frame, but eventually a doctor gave him some old trousers and a washed blue shirt.

 

Bucky sat there for an hour, watching the men around him wake up for 6AM breakfast. He was given oatmeal with a dash of cinnamon. He swore it tasted exactly like the kind his sister made him every morning before the war. It was a luxury to have spices during the war, and the fact that a hospital full of hundreds of soldiers got some was astounding.

 

Bucky took his time eating. He was still getting the hang of having one hand to eat with. He’d place his bowl on his chest and struggle with the spoon to try to get a good scoop. Sometimes the bowl would slide down his chest and he’d have to quickly grab it without losing his spoon in the process.

 

Steve walked in, fresh and somewhat clean. Bucky was taking a bite before the bowl started to drift to his left side. The side where he had no arm to save the bowl. Steve instantly took notice and raced over to grab the bowl before it hit the ground. Bucky huffed loudly, annoyed that he can’t do everything on his own.

 

Steve held it out to him.

 

“Thanks, my Knight in Shining Armor.” Bucky joked, grabbing the almost empty container with his pointer finger and thumb.

 

“Any time.” Steve mumbled, taking a wrap out of his pocket.

 

“I’m almost done.”

 

Bucky took two more bites before he gestured Steve to grab it from him. He placed it next to all of the things on Bucky’s side table.

 

“Let’s check this thing out.”

 

Bucky helped unwrap it this time. He still felt the stinging every time it was moved a certain way, but it wasn’t as painful as before. Steve smiled when there wasn’t a lot of blood on the wrap.

 

“It seems to be closing nicely. We can start to put some cooling gel on it at night if you want. As soon as it closes completely, you can leave us.” Steve reports, running his hand over the scabbing wounds on Bucky’s shoulder.

 

“Can’t wait.”

 

“You know they make those fake limbs now right? You ca-”

 

“No.” Bucky cut him off before he could even continue.

 

“There’s no shame in it.” Steve says politely, as he began to twirl the cloth around his arm.

 

“Yeah there is.”

 

“People won’t question a soldier. They know you’ve been through hell. It’s not like-”

 

“I don’t want to think about that right now, okay?” Bucky tries to say it nicely, but it comes out like venom. Steve clenches his jaw and finishes the job at hand. Bucky sits up, ready to stand up for the first time in about three days. Steve moves the chair across the floor to give him more space to put his feet.

 

He felt weak and exhausted as soon as he pushed off his bed. He was still feeling the effects of losing a lot of blood. The nutrients he was getting from the food he ate wasn’t the most helpful in his case, but at least he was being fed. Steve grabbed Bucky’s hand and arm, trying to steady him. Bucky nodded and thanks and they began taking smaller steps.

 

Soon they were walking normally through the corridors. Bucky felt stronger standing up. They continued into rooms where sickly and dying men resided. Steve said hello to some of his patients and checked some of their boards to make sure the other nurses were administering their medicines.

 

Some hallways were cut off due to damage from bombs that tore up the walls about a month before Bucky arrived. Steve was there that night. He checked it on his list of by far the scariest night of his life. Only 3 people died as a result of walls and roof debris from falling on them. In the meantime, they had to ship over 100 men to a hotel across the way for about a month to be able to repair some areas of the hospital. Steve had the pleasure of going to the hotel and working full time making rounds in suites full of men who were in the process of recovering.

 

They turned a corner and a nurse was staring down at a clipboard, not taking mind to Bucky walking right by her. She knocks right into his shoulder, instantly causing Bucky to screech in pain. Steve rushes to aid him, placing him in a random wheelchair in the hall. The nurse drops her belongings, apologizing and asking what she could do.

 

Shortly after, the moans of pain turned into laughter. Bucky was _laughing._

 

“What the hell, Buck?” Steve yells smacking his good shoulder.

 

“It’s fine, doll. I’m fine. Just a little sting.”

 

“I’m so so sorry, oh my god!” She places her face in her hands. Bucky reaches up and pulls her closer to him, pulling her hands away.

 

“It’s completely okay, I was just pulling ya leg, doll. Don’t you worry about me.”

 

He winked and she was completely okay after that. She picked up her belongings, still mumbling an apology. Steve was still fuming, staring at Bucky with his arms crossed.

 

“What?!”

 

“You don’t play with me like that, I thought I would have to pump you with morphine or something.”

 

“Aw, little guy cares about me, huh?”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“Nah, just wanted to have a pretty nurse talk notice to me.” Bucky says, hiding his guarded attitude. The feelings he really had, needed to be pushed away. He knew they were dangerous. He knew if he was caught staring at the wrong man at the wrong time he’d be interrogated and he didn’t feel like defending himself.

 

“You know I can always trade places with one of them.” Steve mutters, helping Bucky back to his feet. Bucky’s heart lurched.

 

To be honest, Bucky felt close to Steve. He was the only one who wasn’t afraid to talk to him about things. He didn’t want some strange woman coming and ruining it all because Bucky had walls up to shield himself from his own self. Bucky groaned, “I think I’m good.”

 

“I wouldn’t do that anyway. I enjoy our talks more than all the other patients I work with. You actually don’t tell me to _‘piss off’_ or yell at me for asking what their date of birth is.”

 

“People do that?”

 

Steve chuckled, slipping his hands in his pockets, “You’d be surprised what half these men say to me. Most of the time I let it roll off my shoulder, but other times I get really hurt. Some guy told me that I should kill myself and I don’t know why but it bothered me.”

 

“He is probably just reflecting himself off of you. He was probably a scrawny little guy before the war.”

 

“Hey! Don’t need to make fun of the little guy. I am keeping you alive.”

 

They both laughed, heading for the courtyard doors. Other men were out there by themselves, enjoying the rare warmer weather. London was a rainy place, so the outside world is a rarity to the men in the hospital. Steve heads towards a bench, sitting down. He pushes his blond locks back out of his face. He hadn’t gelled his hair in two days.

 

Bucky sat next to him, taking up most of the bench.

 

“I used to come out here with a guy named Paul. He was from Ireland. He got to go home about two months ago. He lost half of his jaw and an eye after he peaked out of a trench to just be blasted by two bullets.” Steve said, his hands in his lap, his eyes focused straight.

 

“Yeah, two of my men died by doing that. Kit and Jack. Early 20s. Good men.” Bucky said, his lips pursed. He licked them wet.

 

“We deal with a lot of awful things here. Can’t imagine what the frontline tents are like.”

 

“Bloody. Lots of yelling.” Bucky confessed, “I had to help some men back to one a couple times and the things I’ve seen…” he trailed off, not wanting to talk about it anymore. Steve could comprehend what silence meant.

 

“Ya ever been to Frannie’s in Queens?” Steve asked.

 

“The ice cream place?”

 

“Yeah, yeah. My mom and I used to go there after dinner some nights and watch this group of kids play soccer in the street. It was our thing for awhile. I really could use one of their vanilla milkshakes.”

 

“That sounds ‘mazing right now.” Bucky said, smiling. He remembered the little shop next to a shoe shining place. Him and his buddies would take girls there and go dancing down the street a club.

 

“I miss home sometimes, but other times I don’t. There isn’t much left there for me anymore.”

 

“Your mom?”

 

“She died of tuberculosis. She was a nurse. too.”

 

“Is that why you’re one?” Bucky asked, before he picked up a strand of dead grass.

 

“Kind of. More so I wanted to be apart of the war. Do my part.”

 

“You never really told me why you weren’t qualified.” Bucky said rolling the strand between his fingers.

 

“Asthma. Chronic colds. Heart conditions. Scarlet fever. High blood pressure. More that I can’t think of.” Steve listed them off like they’re nothing.

 

“And they let you work in a hospital?! I don’t think I want you as my nurse anymore.” Bucky said jokingly.

 

“My superiors know only of the asthma. So let’s keep the rest a secret, Buck.” Steve whispers, trying to not draw attention to themselves.

 

“Oh, you’re secrets safe with me, Stevie.”

 

Steve giggles, the most cutest sound, “And the nicknames continue.”

 

“I have tons already lined up for you. What do you think about Mr. Asthma?”


	4. Bath Time!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky makes a new friend after a chat with Steve. Pretty much it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY!  
> I was away and I was unable to get in the right headspace to write this and I want to do this story justice and I want it to go EXACTLY HOW I WANT IT TO GO. I am taking my time, but that doesn't excuse the fact that it's been over a month since I updated. I am soooo sorry. I hope this chapter makes up for it. Much love and appreciation, M

The rest of the day was mostly sitting in the courtyard and talking. Steve and Bucky sat there for hours talking about the city they left only a couple years ago. Steve talked about how he was bullied in school and he only had one girlfriend in his life. 

 

That led Bucky to believe that the feelings he was feeling weren’t going to be returned. 

 

Bucky talked about his family, mostly his little sister and how she was his world. Steve sat and listened as Bucky talked highly of her, saying she was the best in her class and that she was really good at math. She was going to be graduating in two years and Bucky couldn’t wait to watch her finally make a difference. She always wanted to be a doctor and wanted to break the norm of the women staying home and being the homemaker. She was too independent for that. 

 

The topic led them to girls. Oh,  _ girls _ , Bucky thought. 

 

Bucky was good with girls. He was a smooth, slick talker, but he never had the urges to take one home with him after a night of drinking and dancing. He never had the aspirations to take one to the school dance, or out to get a milkshake. He usually just followed what his friends told him to do when it came to girls. 

 

When he left for boot camp, he realized he was exactly what he was told to despise. Everyone knew same sex relationships were rare and oddities within the society.

 

But Bucky couldn’t help looking at the men in his tent some days and admired them. (And not like, “Hey that guy is ripped, I wish I had his body!” but more like “Wow that guy is so handsome, I kinda wanna kiss him”.) 

 

He felt urges towards them, which he successfully pushed away, but they were still there. He would get nervous giving direction sometimes, not wanting the cute new soldiers to think he was an asshole. Luckily, the chaos distracted him from thinking about it all too much. He quickly realized that this was not the place to meet a mate. Not the time, not the location. The mindset he had at boot was not the mindset he would ever have again. 

 

Until he got here. And he saw this blond, doe eyed guy who took amazing care of him. Every time he pushed the thoughts of Steve out of his head, they would come back stronger. He would soon notice every freckle on his face and the shape of his lips and the slight slump of his shoulders. 

 

He felt like an idiot. 

 

Steve noticed how weird Bucky was about talking about women when he said, “Girls don’t really interest me a whole lot.”

 

“How come?” Steve asked with ease, not wanting to push too far, but kind of wanting to push too far. 

 

“Well, I just.. I don’t know. I jus-”

 

“Well, you’re a handsome guy, from what I’ve seen you’ve got the body to impress a woman.”

 

“Well, thanks but that’s not the point,” Bucky muttered, shrugging.

 

“Then what is?”

 

“Why ya' pushing?”

 

“Am I not allowed to push?” Steve asked quickly.

 

“No, you can just no-”

 

“Not with this?” 

 

“Yeah and I just don’t really want to talk about it.”

 

Steve pursed his lips, “Did you lose a girl you loved or something?”

 

“Pushing it.”

 

“So yes.”

 

“Steve!” Bucky yelled, making all the other men jump and look towards them. Steve sat back on the bench, his arms crossed, defeated. 

 

“You were finally opening up,” Steve mumbled.

 

“Why do you care?”

 

Steve didn’t want to admit that he did, in fact, care. He wanted to know why he felt the way he did around Bucky. He was something different. He somehow made Steve’s heart flutter when he laughed. He genuinely listened to Steve when he had something or nothing at all to say. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Steve said squinting forward, not wanting to make eye contact.

 

Bucky huffed, “Yeah, me too.”

 

Silence. Still brief stares. Still gray skies.

 

“We need to get inside. Lunch is after bathing today so we need to get you inside so my boss doesn't raise hell..”

 

“So, you don’t care?” Bucky’s question referring to earlier made Steve smirk. He really knew how to irk him.

 

“I do, but you yelled at me,” Steve admits, standing up from the bench. He turned towards the brunette and held out his hand, “And I was prying too hard.”

 

Bucky took his hand with his right one and used Steve’s light weight to pull himself off the bench, “I yell at everyone I like.”

 

“You like me?”

 

_ Mayday. _

 

“Not in temperamental way. In a friendly way.” Bucky saved himself, luckily. But he was still holding Steve’s hand. And he didn’t know how to let go. 

 

They stood there for at least a minute, just holding hands and staring at each other. Bucky could’ve sworn he saw Steve look at his lips for a moment. 

 

They pulled their hands away at the same time, acting like it never happened. They walked to the door, about 10 feet away from each other. Bucky silently prayed none of the other men outside saw their interaction. Whilst Steve pleading to God that everyone saw Bucky blushing the whole time. 

 

-

 

Steve helped Bucky back in bed, telling him he’d be back later with lunch or to help with the bathing situation, whichever came first. 

 

Bucky laid there, glancing over at the bed next to him, the bed that was once Wilam’s. The new man lying it was sleeping. He was a larger guy, brunette with bruising and cuts all over his face. He was completely covered by a navy blue blanket from the neck down, so Bucky couldn’t tell if he was limbless like himself. 

 

“Staring is impolite.” His voice caused Bucky to jump. He was British. His eyes opened, revealing that one eye was covered red. You could still see that it was green, but Bucky guessed he must’ve popped a blood vessel in the left one, causing the red. 

 

“Sorry. Just bored laying here.” Bucky responds. The guy grinned, his dimples prominent on his face. He was handsome and almost left Bucky speechless and completely forgetting that he wasn’t supposed to stare. 

 

“It’s okay. I was just messing. Names Alex Robbins. British Army. Infantry.” He pushes down the blanket, stretching his hand out to Bucky. 

 

Wait, _he had no hand._

 

His laughter boomed through the room as Bucky sat up, completely dumbfounded. 

 

“You’re crazy.” Bucky murmured, while Alex still laughed. 

 

“I am sorry. We can bond over missing limbs, mate. Gonna need your name first though.” His chuckles broke his sentences, and his accent was sometimes hard to understand.

 

“James Barnes. Friends call me Bucky. U.S. Army. Infantry. The 107th.”

 

“You’re Sergeant James Barnes?! Holy shit, we were you guy’s replacements! Every one of your soldiers talked about your manhandling a grenade.” Alex was no longer laughing, his face was serious, as he adjusted his placement. He sat up, facing Bucky.

 

“Damn, you’re the guys that took forever to get there? Nice to see some of you made it out alive.” Bucky commented, observing Alex watch his shoulder carefully. _Staring is impolite_ , he thought to himself. 

 

“Yeah. I got shot straight through the hand. Got infected quick since I waited 2 days to get it handled. They amputated it as soon as I got here.” He stared down at his wrist, his face unsettled by the sudden change. Bucky knew exactly what he was feeling, as he assumed it was written all over his face still.

 

“Yeah, I got mine amputated when they brought me back to camp. They thought I died.”

 

“Your men were concerned about you.”

 

“I know. They are all a bunch of softies deep down.” Bucky chuckled thinking about all those guys he left. He made a promise to himself to go to the British Intelligence Agency and see if they had received any letters of deaths on the front for the 107th. 

 

He had a lot to do after he left this place.

 

“I’ve been in this war since 1940, was stuck in France for a little, got to go home but I had a duty. Returned in late 41. Been in for awhile, made it through some of the worst battles, and I lose my fucking hand in a minor battle. What a pile of shit.” Alex’s voice was not bitter or annoyed. It sounded more joking. But Bucky knew he was bitter. Every soldier was spiteful. This war had been going on for too long. The men wanted to see their families again, but they knew that fighting for their country and getting rid of the poison on the world was vital. So they all put on a good face, learned how to shoot rifles, chew tobacco, and drink a lot of hard liquor. 

 

“Well thank you for your service,” Bucky swallowed, “If you don’t mind me asking, were you at Dunkirk? You said France in 1940.”

 

Alex’s face tightened, “That was it.”

 

“I heard about that back home. Front page news on the New York Times.”

 

“Yeah, we were pretty fucking popular.” 

 

He laughed. His laugh was throaty and husky, but his face didn’t reflect any emotion. He was just staring blankly at the wall behind Bucky. 

 

“Men!” The booming voice comes from a tall, beautiful woman across the room. She enters with about 5 nurses, including Steve. “It’s bath day for you all. Stay in your beds, and don’t give these nurses any hard time. They don’t want your filthy asses, so no silly business.” 

 

Alex stood up, “Who’s giving orders?” He looked like he was in a daze or something because he didn’t even look towards the group at the head of the room. He looked straight at Bucky, his red eye drooping more than the other. 

 

“Soldier?” The woman clicked her heels all the way to their shared bedside, her arms at her sides, her head pointed upward.

 

“Ma’am?” Alex’s face got that light hearted dopey look again, as he leaned forward towards the woman.

 

“Are you questioning my authority?” 

 

Bucky looked at her nametag. Carter. She was a doctor from what the name tag said. 

 

“Doll, I don’t think he meant to be- uh- offensive. He was just given meds that probably make him loopy.” Bucky lied as he stands up slowly, gripping Alex’s shoulder, guiding him towards the bed like a child, “He didn’t mean it.”

 

Dr. Carter scanned Bucky up and down, “Sergeant, what did you call me?”

 

Bucky clears his throat, “Sorry, Doc. It’s the Brooklyn in me.”

 

“Oh, Brooklyn? Like Rogers?”

 

“Yes, Ma’am.”

 

“Yeah, Rogers doesn’t call me that. He calls me by my earned name, rightfully so. Call me Doll again, and I’ll have you hanging outside on the flagpole.” She steps closer to him, “By your balls.”

 

Every man in the room begins whooping and hollering, as Dr. Carter heads back to the door. She gives directions to the nurses, gesturing where they should start the process. All the men, including Alex, start chanting things at Bucky, who just rolls his eyes and plops down on his bed. Once the loudness settles, Bucky yells, “Fuck you guys!” 

 

They all laugh, heading back to their beds like they were instructed to do. Alex lays on his side, watching Bucky closely, “You really took it from her, didn’t ya?”

 

“I thought you were my friend!” Bucky jokes, pulling his blanket aside. One thing about living in a room with a bunch of men is that it gets hot really quickly. The outside weather didn’t matter, every hall with a bunch of men equaled sweat and humidity. 

 

Steve approaches Bucky, giving him a half-hearted smile.

 

“Let’s get you cleaned up, Buck.” Steve motioned him to stand, swinging the towel he held over his shoulder. 

 

“Why aren’t you giving us bed baths?” Alex whined to Steve.

 

“Because we want to make sure every man in recovery can get around before we let them go. Bed baths allow you all to wallow in your beds. Nurse Cathy should be by in a second to get you.” 

 

Bucky follows Steve down the hallway, to a smaller room with about four giant bathtubs in it. They were filled with warm water, the steam coming up from the deep tubs. 

 

“I’m supposed to help you in, and then you’re on your own. You have 10 minutes, maximum. Then I have to rewrap you.” Steve gives him all the directions as he sets the towel next to him. “I’ll take your clothes. They need to be washed. I will give you a new pair when your time is up.”

 

Bucky suddenly feels a chill up his spine. He has to get naked in front of Steve?

 

“On with it, pal.”

 

Bucky huffs loudly, as he slowly pulls up his shirt with his hand. Steve assists at the end when the shirt is around his neck and he can’t fully get it off. With his shirt off, Steve takes it and throws it over his shoulder. He then focuses on getting Bucky’s pants off.

 

_ It sounded really dirty in his head _ , Steve thought. 

 

Once Bucky was in his underwear, Steve notices how heavily Bucky was breathing. Like he was focusing his mind elsewhere.

 

“Okay, underwear and your wrap and they you can hop in.” 

 

The extra push made Bucky shutter. He pushes his underwear down, shimming the pair down his legs. He kicks them towards Steve, and he picks them up. 

 

Suddenly without warning, Steve starts unraveling his wrap, quicker than usual. He didn’t know why he was going so fast, it was like he wanted to get the awkward feeling he had over with. When Bucky’s wound was in sight, he breathed out like he’d been holding his breath for days. 

 

“You okay?” Bucky asked in a shaky voice.

 

“Yes, I’m fine.”

 

He inspects Bucky’s wound, nodding at how far it has come in a short amount of time. He turns around to face the only trash can in the room, throwing the wrap in there. When he swings his body around again, he notices Bucky standing there completely still. Steve stared for what felt like too long for him. He just was focused on how strong Bucky’s back looked. His grown out short haircut was slicked back, probably because it was so greasy it could look slicked without gel if Bucky pushed it all back with his hand. 

 

_ And for a millisecond, he stared at his butt. _

 

“Do you need help getting in?” Steve questioned, swallowing hard because of his untamed thoughts. 

 

Bucky nodded, knowing his balance was unsteady still and that the tub walls were higher than he was used to. Steve hooked his arm around Bucky and instantly Bucky felt his skin burning. Not because of the water but because Steve was touching his bare skin. He eases himself into the water with Steve’s guidance. Once settled, Bucky realizes he had his eyes closed the whole time. He opens them to see Steve smiling sheepishly, holding his clothes. 

 

“I’ll be back in 10.”

 

Bucky sat there in the cool water, staring at the soap. 

 

The door closed and then opened to Alex and his nurse. Alex was hitting on her, saying how she had pretty eyes. 

 

“Alex Robbins!” Bucky groaned, “Carter said no funny business.” 

 

Alex laughed. Bucky grabbed the soap and began rubbing himself down. He hadn’t had a bath in a long time. The front’s version of a bath was taking extra buckets of water and wiping yourself down once a month. Occasionally they would give you soap and a bucket for yourself. Or maybe, just maybe, your camp had a pond or body of water nearby and you could submerge yourself for a little with your buddies. 

 

The water surrounding Bucky’s frame would get about 5 troops ‘clean’. 

 

_ He was guilting himself for taking a goddamn bath.  _

 

The suds were prominent on his chest, so he shoveled some water upward and cleaned himself as well as he could with one arm. He felt so overwhelmed with grief suddenly, he wanted to cry. Maybe it was because his muscles never felt this relaxed in a while, or the fact that he didn’t have another armpit to clean under. It was so beyond dumb, but to him, it felt like his whole world was crashing down because his other arm couldn’t wipe down his other arm.

 

It was finally hitting him that he was an armless son of a bitch who was never going to live a normal life again.

 

“You okay, mate?” Alex was in his bath, across from Bucky's. 

 

“How the fuck am I supposed to live with one arm?” Bucky choked out. 

 

Alex laid back in his tub, “I don’t really know man. I’m pretty new at the no hand thing, too. Maybe we can help each other live without our limbs.”

 

Bucky wanted to laugh, “You coming back to Brooklyn with me?”

 

“Well if the Nazis don’t stop dropping bombs here, I won’t have a home. So yeah, let’s go to Brooklyn.” Alex says, no joking in his voice. 

 

“We’ll be the limbless Sons of Bitches of Brooklyn.”

 

Alex cracks up, “We will write books and be celebrities!”

 

Finally, Bucky chuckles along with Alex.

 

“We will be alright, mate. No worries. We got out of the damn war alive, not a lot of men can say that.” Alex’s simple reminder brought Bucky back from his darkest thoughts. He lost track within seconds and having reminders like that allow him to remember that he’s a lucky one. 

 

The 10 minutes slip by quickly, and Steve arrives with new clothes for Bucky. 

 

“I don’t wanna get up!” Bucky jokes, wanting to sink all the way into the tub. Steve rolls his eyes, grabbing the towel and gesturing him to get up. 

 

Bucky pushes up with his arm, standing up in the bath. The water slips off his body, causing a swoosh sound. He reaches out for Steve who grabs his hand, helping him out and onto the slippery floor. 

 

“Be careful, don’t slip,” Steve says, giving him the towel. Bucky starts drying off his body, and that’s when Alex clears his throat.

 

“Can I just say,” He begins, “You have an insane upper body man. Like maybe you’re missing an arm, but the chest? Distracts from everything.”

 

Bucky’s laugh was insanely loud, but it felt so good to let it out like that, “Thanks, dude.”

 

“It’s like he’s a god or some shit.” Steve mumbles. Bucky hears it though, his smile never fading.

 

“Thanks, guys. I’m glad I’m around to show off my God-like body to you fellas.”


	5. Soup Burns and Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky just wants to talk and get stuff off his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY  
> I have just started my senior year in high school and damn has it already fucked my whole life up. I am so sorry I'm just getting this up. Also sorry it's short. I hope it suffices until I can get my ass in gear and write and read more.   
> hope you're all well. x  
> Madds

It’d been a week and Steve had two days off in between. But when he was here, he and Bucky would sit outside. Even though Wednesday was a bad day for Bucky, Steve managed to get him outside. He wasn’t feeling right, he was tired. Not just physically, but mentally. So, they sat in complete silence. Steve would catch his gaze sometimes, giving him a slight smile, while Bucky stared back wanting to smile but couldn’t find the energy to do so. Alex was a constant in Bucky’s life, though. Mostly in his ear. He continued to bother Bucky with questions. But Alex was a very good sleeper, so when he wasn’t talking, he was sleeping.

 

Bucky took notice that hair was getting longer and his clean shave was now a patchy mess. It was bothering him. Back on the front, they’d cut each other’s hair back at base and shave. Bucky liked his locks somewhat long, but not as long as it was getting. And his facial hair itched and he couldn’t sleep without it feeling prickly on his pillow.

 

On Saturday, when it was bothering him so much he was tempted to rip it all out, Steve walked in with scissors and a straight razor.

 

He set the bowl of water he had along with the razor and stared down at Bucky’s curious eyes.

 

“You said your hair was bothering you, so I’m here to cut it for you,” Steve said, his smile beaming and his navy shirt all crinkled.

 

Bucky would have to remind him to iron when he left today.

 

Bucky got up to sit in the chair Steve motioned towards right near his bedside. The same chair Steve had slept in before.

 

Alex heard the commotion and turned in his bed to face the two men. Soon everyone crowded around Bucky’s area, watching Steve cut his hair. No nurse had done this before, let alone offered to do such a service. Alex was a tad jealous, watching Bucky laugh at something Steve said. Something about how greasy his hair was.

 

Alex quickly took into account how different Bucky was around Steve. It was an off boundaries conversation, though. Bucky had made that clear when Alex pestered him about his love life and his connections with people. Bucky didn’t want to talk about his feelings.

 

So he just watched their gentle banter and their slight touches. It was quite the sight to behold. Bucky’s smile was different around Steve. And Steve’s shoulders would relax from their tense state. They were comfortable.

 

When Steve finished, Bucky looked like a new man. His bright crooked smile became more prominent, and not that scratchy looking beard that was growing out too much. The smile never faded, ever when Steve left for lunch. He stared at himself, pride in the fact that the man he was fawning over made him feel new again.   
When lunch was served, Alex pulled up a chair next to Bucky at one of the tables in the commons area. It was a large, brightly lit, room with chairs and tables to play cards. Most the men went there to eat dinner, but lately, Bucky would sit there silently by himself.

 

“Lookin’ good there, mate.” Alex comments, taking a scoop of his porridge.

 

“Thanks. Steve really knows how to-”

 

“You like him?”

 

Bucky’s eyes flick up to Alex’s puffy cheeked face. He ate like a ravenous animal.

 

“What?”

 

“Steve. You like him?”

 

“Yeah, he’s a good guy,” Bucky says, a blank expression playing across his face.

 

“But you look at him like he’s more than a good guy.” Alex mumbles.

 

Bucky knew what he was implying, “List-”

 

“No, it’s okay. Honestly. I don’t care about the person you like. You’re a good man, who you love doesn’t change that.” Alex gives him a reassuring smile, “and I wouldn’t tell a damned soul.”

 

Bucky’s lips form a straight line, “I have been here for over two weeks and he’s the only person who doesn’t look at me like I’m a hopeless cause.”

 

“I don’t try to do that.”

 

“You’re different, Alex. You’re just an idiot. You don’t do it intentionally.”

 

They erupt into loud hearty laughter. Alex nods, agreeing. “Yeah, I have my moments.”

 

They giggle a little more, as they finish their food and cup of joe. They sat in a comfortable but unfinished silence.

 

“How long have you known?” Alex asks, keeping his eyes down at his empty mug.

 

Bucky winces, “I didn’t ever really have an instant realization. It’s just… I knew. I always knew that…” He grows quieter, “I always knew that I could never spend my life with a girl. And it’s not the anatomy, it’s not just that. Just I’m more comfortable and at ease with men in my life. Like, I never had ambitions to lean in and kiss the girl I was forced to take to the movies. But anytime I had a heart to heart with a buddy I wanted to take ‘em into a hug and kiss them better. I don’t really know. You just have to feel it to understand.”

 

“I’ve felt it, but with my girlfriend back home. That warm sense of home. Like you would do anything to get back to them. No matter the situation.” Alex explains, glancing up into Bucky’s eyes. Bucky realized than in that moment that maybe Alex was actually a vital piece to this story he was just beginning to embark on.

 

“Yeah.” Bucky says with a smile, “By the way, never asked, but when are you getting out of here?”

 

Alex shrugs, “Dr. Carter said that I can another 2 weeks, but I’m okay to leave anytime. I’m just waiting to get some money for a train ticket back home.”

 

“I’m getting out at the end of next week. They say my open wound will be closed by then and I won’t be at risk of infection.”

 

“That’s great. You going home after?”

 

“I have to run a small errand. Drop off something for a friend. Then yeah.”

 

“What’s the errand?” Alex asks, his eyebrows furrowed at Bucky’s wondering eyes.

 

“I need to go to Scotland to give a soldier’s family his belongings. Then home, I guess. I don’t know.”

 

“Well, Scotland is affected by those German bombs, too. You sure you want to do that alone?”

 

“I don’t have anyone else, unless you wanna come?” Bucky’s eyes avert back to Alex who sits back, his shoulders dropping.

 

“I mean, as long as we can stop at my hometown for like 2 days. Got to see my Missus and my mum. Then yeah, I’ll go with you.”

 

Bucky smiles, “Great. Thanks, pal.”

 

“Yeah, whatever. You’re paying for my ticket though.”

 

“Alright. Deal.”

 

The rest of the day went on without a hitch, until dinner was served. Steve came in to help give out the meals with two other nurses. One was blond, and much taller than him. The other one, Bucky had never seen before. She was shorter than him, with a cute smile and beautiful eyes. Steve seemed very interested in her, laughing with her every time they were an inch from each other. Bucky felt like steam was going to come out of his ears once they reached Alex’s bed. His face reflected the jealousy, but no one seemed to notice.

 

When they got to Bucky’s bed, Steve straightened up a little more, like he was putting on a performance. The girl said she had to go help stitch someone up or something, leaving just Steve and Bucky together.

 

Bucky wanted so badly to be a dick and totally ignore Steve. But his words caught up and before he could think he said, “You like her?”

 

Steve stops in his tracks, looking up at Bucky. “She’s cute.”

 

“But do you like her?”

 

Steve shrugged, “I don’t know. She’s new, I’m just being nice.”

 

“Looks a lot more than just being nice,” Bucky mumbles, grabbing his food.

 

Steve furrows his eyebrows, “Why does it matter to you?”

 

Alex clears his throat. Bucky glances over at him. His eyes reflected what he should do. Bucky knew what he was thinking, but there’s no goddamn way Bucky would ever do it. Somehow in the midst of Bucky shaking his head no, his right hand released the soup, pouring it all down himself. Steve’s heart stopped when he noticed Bucky’s face contorting from the boiling soup on his chest and arm.

 

“Fuck!” Bucky screamed, dropping the bowl on the floor. It shattered upon impact. Everyone’s eyes went towards the struggling trio. Alex got up to help, but couldn’t get around the shattered glass. Steve was frantically grabbing towards Bucky. Bucky was yelling and pulling at his shirt which felt like it was burning into his skin.

 

Eventually, other nurses came rushing over to aid the situation. They got Bucky out of bed on the other side, rushing him to the baths. Two nurses poured cool water into a tub, while Steve and the blond nurse helped Bucky out of his clothes. His shirt was sticking to him and every tug caused him to gasp for air. The pain was like a thousand small needles picking into Bucky’s chest and arm.

 

The tub was full and they threw him in there in his underwear. Steve began to take a cup and dumping cool room temperature water on the open wounds.

 

“It fuckin’ hurts, fuck.” Bucky moaned, grabbing the edge of the tub. More burns became apparent down his arm, and Steve moved Bucky’s hand back into the tub.

 

“You have burns on your arm, keep them in the water,” Steve advises, observing Bucky’s chest to pinpoint all the major areas of the burn. Bucky closed his eyes, not knowing what the fuck to do. The pain was becoming lesser and lesser the more water Steve poured on him, but once Steve stopped, the cold air shocked him.

 

And once Steve lifts up his arm to inspect it, the pain grows stronger.

 

“Because I like you,” Bucky says, his mind not connecting to what he was saying.

 

“ _What?_ ” Steve said, looking up at Bucky’s pained face.

 

The other nurses had left before this moment luckily. Or else Bucky would regret every would that was about to spill out of his mouth.

 

“I like you and you take good care of me and I don’t like you looking at other girls.”

 

Steve dropped Bucky’s arm back into the water.

 

_“You like me?_ ”

 

Bucky’s dazed discomfort mixed with the high he felt from getting that off his chest, caused a huge smile to spread across his face.

 

“Yes, you dork, now fix me before I don’t like you anymore. And you need to iron your uniform when you get home. I just remembered.”


End file.
